


Lost In Translation

by falsteloj



Category: Young Dracula
Genre: M/M, Misunderstanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/pseuds/falsteloj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vlad misunderstands.</p><p>(I have a ton more YD stuff - you can find story summaries, etc, by clicking <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/27201609">HERE</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost In Translation

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a line in a fic by automaticapple over on FFN, in which Vlad doesn't know what the word 'gay' means.

"Count, you Gaylord," Richard Price hissed, shoving him by the shoulders, "Get out of the bloody way."  
  
Vlad pulled a face but stepped to the side dutifully. Price pushed past him, his cronies, Watson and Davis, following. Robin was watching them go with a scowl, muttering darkly under his breath.  
  
For his part he still didn't get what everyone had against being happy. Back in Transylvania he had understood; vampires were supposed to be evil. There was – supposedly – no place for being gay and cheerful. But here, in Britain, it didn't make any sense.  
  
Aloud he said to Robin, "Don't get so worked up about it. I don't mind."  
  
"You should mind!" Robin protested. "Can't you hear what he's saying!?"  
  
"Robin," Vlad said patronisingly, "I'm a vampire. Enhanced hearing, it kind of comes with the territory."  
  
"Yeah, well, maybe you just don't  _understand_ it."  
  
Vlad narrowed his eyes. "Of course I understand," he snapped in response. Robin was always making fun of his slip-ups with the language - it was obvious that Robin thought he'd caught him out again. Well, he'd show him.  
  
"I don't care how much Price says it," Vlad told Robin huffily, "because it's true. I am gay. And," he nodded decisively, "I'm proud of it."  
  
Robin just stood gaping at him for long moments until Vlad was fighting the urge to retract the statement just to get over the awkwardness.  
  
"You're gay?" Robin stuttered out eventually, eyes wide with disbelief.  
  
"Yes," Vlad frowned. It wasn't like it was a surprise that he liked being happy. Robin, he thought, probably just abhorred the idea of someone being proud of it.  
  
"Right," Robin swallowed, still staring at him. "That's just – you're – right. Right."  
  
Vlad squirmed uncomfortably under the renewed silent scrutiny, "I thought we were going to lunch?"  
  
The taller boy seemed to snap himself out of it then, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. "You don't half pick your timing, Vlad." His tone wasn't accusing though and Vlad relaxed, smiling,  
  
"You love it."  
  
Robin said nothing, just shaking his head grimly. Vlad couldn't help but grin; for the first time in his life he'd succeeded in rendering Robin speechless!

* * *

Robin was still acting weirdly around him come last lesson, glancing across at him before looking steadfastly away. After some thought Vlad decided it must be because he had been far more assertive than usual. Just because he normally gave in to what Robin thought, or what Robin wanted to do, did not mean he was incapable of having his own opinions.  
  
He was feeling quite proud of himself as he tied his football boots, watching Robin try to get into his rugby top without taking off his shirt in amusement.  
  
"Oi, Count," Price called from the other side of the changing rooms, "Stop eyeing Branagh up!"  
  
Vlad blushed and stood up straight. "I wasn't eyeing him up."  
  
Price sniggered, high-fiving Davis as he took in the flush across his cheeks. "Whatever you say, Count. Whatever you say."  
  
His new found assertiveness not stretching far enough to want to start a fight under Old Jenkins' nose he turned back to Robin, shrugging apologetically. Robin flustered under his gaze, nearly careering into a wall in his haste to get his rugby shorts pulled up. Vlad wondered if it was guilt at having procrastinated so long before getting changed. Knowing Robin it was probably just part of his latest scheme to try and get out of games.  
  
Robin dropped down heavily onto the bench, stamping his foot into one football boot. Not looking up he asked suddenly, "Are you going to tell everyone?"  
  
"Tell everyone what?" Vlad asked, hanging his blazer on the peg carefully. He didn't want it to get full of creases.  
  
"You know," Robin looked around warily and hissed, "that you're gay."  
  
Vlad frowned; he hadn't known you were supposed to make a public statement about it. Aloud he asked, "Do you think I should?"  
  
Robin's gaze slid over to Price and he let out a strained snort of laughter. "No."  
  
"I'm not afraid of Price," Vlad protested, affronted at Robin's total and utter lack of faith in him. It didn't bode well for his future as head vampire.  
  
Dark eyes met his then, imploring. "Don't do it, Vlad."  
  
"Don't do what?" Price's voice sounded, the clatter of football studs against the tiled floor all around them as their class filed out. "Be a gayboy? Aw, sorry, Count, bit late, isn't it?"  
  
Watson and Davis grinned behind him, the other boys within hearing distance sniggering. Vlad glanced at Robin who was pretending to ignore the entire scene, doing up his other boot. He took a deep breath. "So what if I am?"  
  
"What!" Price grinned widely, unable to believe his good fortune, "Count, are you admitting it?"  
  
"Yeah," he nodded to himself. "Yeah, I am." Next to him Robin's expression was pained, eyes clenched shut.  
  
"No way," Price was laughing, "I knew it!" Before he could get past incredulous laughter Jenkins was sticking his head round the door and yelling at them to hurry up. Price and his cronies left, still laughing loudly and Vlad gave Robin a miserable look. He didn't want to be a laughing stock. Robin was having none of it, striding for the door without a shred of sympathy as he said harshly,  
  
"I told you so."

* * *

By the end of the week the entire school seemed to know. The girls were pointing at him in the corridors and giggling behind his back; the boys, when they weren't doing their best to avoid him, were sniggering and laughing to his face. Vlad couldn't help but think the entire reaction was over the top.  
  
Whenever he tried to bring it up with Robin, wanting an explanation, the other boy would grimace or snap at him or outright ignore him until he was forced to let the subject drop. He was gladder than usual it was Friday evening as he sat at the Branagh's dining table, supposedly working on his history coursework. Robin was busy shading a picture of a vampire tearing some pretty girl's jugular out.  
  
"Look at this," Mrs. Branagh tutted, the iron hissing as she set it down and held up a threadbare T-shirt, "I don't know what you do to them."  
  
"Wear them?" Robin suggested defensively.  
  
"You can't go round in these," Mrs. Branagh went on, eyeing up another T-shirt with distaste. "What will people think?"  
  
"No-one's going to get close enough to 'im to see," Paul grinned from the other side of the room, pushing the fridge door shut and peeling the lid of a yoghurt. Ian nodded next to him, biting into an apple. Robin sneered at both of them.  
  
"I'll tell you what," Mrs. Branagh smiled at him, bundling the offending items of clothing up and putting them on the sideboard, "tomorrow we'll go into town and you can get some new ones."  
  
"I ain't going shopping with you," Robin said in horror, looking up from his artwork, "I'm not five."  
  
"Why don't you go with Vlad then?"  
  
Vlad grinned at him; Robin never wanted to go anywhere but the castle on the weekends. It would be fun.  
  
"Mam, shopping is for girls," Robin whined. "Vlad won't want to go."  
  
"I don't mind," Vlad reassured. Robin looked less than happy about it.  
  
"See," Mrs. Branagh said, picking the iron back up. "It's always good to have a second opinion when buying clothes. And Vlad always looks very smart," she gave Vlad an encouraging smile. If it weren't for Robin's look of disgust he'd have felt quite pleased with himself.  
  
"I don't want to look like Vlad!"  
  
"Robin," Mrs. Branagh gave him a warning look. "Remember what we talked about."  
  
Vlad could tell Robin was seething but he didn't say anything else, even when Ian called, "You'll come back looking fabulous" on his way to go and watch television. Vlad rested his elbows on the table, chin in one hand as he watched Robin draw. The twins were right. He could totally make Robin look good.

* * *

"Do we 'ave to go in 'ere?" Robin asked, looking longingly in the direction of Stokely's only alternative wear shop – the only place in town Ingrid would consent to part with any money in. Elsewhere she operated on an 'I like it, so I'll take it' policy, in spite of Vlad's best efforts to point out how immoral it was.  
  
"Yes," Vlad said firmly, pushing the door open and waiting for Robin to step over the threshold. Robin hesitated, face twisted as if the prospect of entering was causing him physical pain before, finally, putting foot inside.  
  
"This is the worst day of my life," Robin was mumbling under his breath, trying to hide his face behind one hand as a group of girls from school, including Delila, pointed in their direction and giggled behind cupped hands. Vlad just took hold of Robin's arm and dragged Robin up the stairs, grinning happily at the sight of all the bright colours.  
  
He loved the shops in Britain, sleek and shiny and void of wizened old vampires who swept in on you the second you entered and fixed you with hypnosis glares to stop you fidgeting as they took your measurements. Robin, not having experienced the latter, couldn't appreciate their absence and was instead looking about him in something approaching abject terror. Vlad could see the back of his neck was damp with nervous sweat.  
  
Mrs. Branagh had expressly told him to try and get Robin to try something on that wasn't black. Or at least wasn't emblazoned with a skull. Taking the mission seriously he ushered a reluctant Robin around the racks of clothing, ignoring his increasingly horrified complaining, starting with 'but it's yellow', getting shriller with 'that's pink' and culminating in an appalled, 'No way. Cardigans are for girls.'  
  
He personally thought that Robin had no idea how lucky he was. As Ingrid never failed to point out he was far too short to be able to pull off anything in the shop window. Robin, on the other hand, would only have to do something with his hair and he could look like one of the guys in all Ingrid's glossy magazines. It wasn't at all fair.  
  
"I'm not trying it on," Robin was digging his heels in, and it was only the sight of a particularly chillily coifed shop assistant making his way towards them that persuaded Robin to move and let himself be led into the changing rooms.  
  
"Vlad," Robin glared at him as if he were insane once they were in the cubicle, "what are you doing! Get out!"  
  
"I don't mind," Vlad shrugged, "I've seen you get changed loads of times."  
  
Robin looked at him weirdly then, and Vlad was reminded of the awkward way he'd been squirming into his gym kit a few days ago. He'd never known Robin be shy about his appearance before. Clumsily trying to be comforting he said,  
  
"You've got nothing to be embarrassed about."  
  
"Just wait outside!" Robin was shoving him out through the curtain before he could protest. Embarrassed as everyone else milling about turned to look at him, he squirmed on the spot and fidgeted as he waited. The stress was definitely getting to Robin.

* * *

"Your Mum will be pleased," Vlad said around a mouthful of food, eyeing up the carrier bag.  
  
Robin grunted in response, taking another bite of his cheeseburger. "At least she's paying for it," he added after a moment.  
  
Vlad grinned and concentrated on his dinner. He'd known Robin couldn't stay in a bad mood with him all day.  
  
"What's it like?" Robin asked suddenly, abruptly.  
  
"Alright, I think I put too much salt on."  
  
"Not your food," Robin gave him an incredulous look, "the other thing." Vlad stared back at him in confusion. Robin was blushing again, looking around them and checking nobody was listening. "Being gay?"  
  
Vlad frowned, even Robin must have been happy at some point. Probably in the middle of dissecting a frog or watching some disgustingly gruesome horror film, but happy all the same. Aloud he said, "Like being normal," he shrugged, "but gayer."  
  
Robin gave him his disapproving look and Vlad grinned back, "You should try it some time." Robin blanched and Vlad grinned harder, "I could show you how."  
  
Before he had chance to respond there was a familiar voice behind them, "What's going on 'ere then? Off to the pictures next, is it boys?"  
  
"Holding 'ands in the dark?" Watson mocked. "Aw."  
  
Vlad scowled up at the three of them, was it not enough that he had to put up with them all day at school?  
  
"You wanna watch out anyway, Branagh," Price said, oblivious to or just uncaring of the death glare Vlad was giving him. "You've got competition."  
  
"Yeah," Davis sniggered, "we all saw you giving the Tanybryn boys the come on. It's no wonder you ballsed up that conversion, you were too busy worrying what you looked like."  
  
Vlad folded his arms across his chest huffily. There had been nothing wrong with his performance out on the rugby field! If anyone had lost them the match it had been Price and his pathetic rivalry with the Tanybyrn team captain, Johnson.  
  
Price put on a staccato voice, his usual way of imitating him, "Oh, do me Johnson." Watson and Davis started laughing but abruptly fell silent. Vlad twisted round in his seat to see Johnson and his own friends.  
  
"In your dreams, Pricey boy!" There was a lot of sniggering. Johnson shoved Price's shoulder as he went past, pausing to nod in his direction, "Count."  
  
He grinned toothily as Price pushed away from them, storming outside, his entire gang trailing after him. Disappointed to see Robin had sunk back into bad mood territory, and being relatively certain why, he said, "They're just idiots. Why would anyone think there was something going on between us?"  
  
"Yeah," Robin said sarcastically, cramming a handful of fries into his mouth with unwarranted viciousness, "Why?"  
  
Vlad gave him a sharp look. If he was going to be like that, then he just wasn't going to bother trying to cheer him up.

* * *

Vlad was flicking through Ingrid's cast off copies of 'Dead Cool' miserably. Robin hadn't wanted to come round his for the evening, hadn't even suggested he should go to his house. Now it was Sunday afternoon and still no sign of him. He was always so bored without Robin around.  
  
He was deliberating whether or not to just sneak out and go and knock for Robin himself when there was a rap at his bedroom door. He couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face at the sight of Robin, especially not as he was actually wearing the stuff he had picked out for him the day before. It looked good, even if he said so himself.  
  
Robin looked nervous and sat down on the edge of his bed almost tentatively. "What are you reading?" He asked finally, in an obvious attempt to fill the silence.  
  
"Dead Cool," Vlad answered, turning the magazine round so Robin could see. It was open on a fashion page and Vlad went on, "Your hair would look cool like that, I bet." The guy in the picture had Robin's colouring, and a similar shaped face. He wondered if perhaps he shouldn't just buy his own magazines and learn something that might actually be useful to him.  
  
"Yeah?" Robin asked, not meeting his gaze.  
  
"Yeah," he paused for a moment then, deciding Robin probably wouldn't try and kill him, reached out and dishevelled Robin's hair carefully, just a little. "See?"  
  
Robin stood up to have a look at himself in the mirror. "Is this the sort of thing you like?"  
  
Vlad nodded, "Yeah." He eyed Robin's new shirt up covetously and wondered if his Dad would let him buy one like it instead of a new cape. He had loads of capes.  
  
"I don't know how you can be so sure," Robin said, sounding uncharacteristically serious. "How do you know?"  
  
Vlad frowned, "I just do. If you like something," he shrugged, "then you like it."  
  
Robin bit at his lip for a moment, apparently processing this information. "Does your Dad know about, you know?"  
  
"I suppose so," Vlad answered, cocking his head to one side in consideration, uncertain where Robin was going with the twenty questions, "It's not like he can't notice, is it?"  
  
"What about Ingrid?" Robin pressed further, "And your mad Gran?"  
  
"Granny Westenra?" He pulled a face. "She still thinks I'd be of more use as a pile of dust. But," he looked across his room, at the cape hanging next to his school blazer and the bright yellow jumper Mrs. Branagh had knitted him the previous Christmas, lamenting that the range of colours at the haberdashery was completely wasted on Robin. Smiling, he finished, "I'm not going to change. They'll just have to get used to it."  
  
Robin was looking at him with something akin to awe on his face and Vlad beamed. That was more like it. Vlad Dracula: assertive leader. Not, as Ingrid had already mocked up a campaign poster of, Vlad Dracula: wimpire.  
  
"It's not that – I just." Robin swallowed and started again, "I'm sorry for being such a dick about it." The sincerity in his tone made Vlad feel unjustifiably proud of himself. "It just took a while for me to get my head around it."  
  
"It's alright," he said graciously. Dropping his magazine to the floor he gestured to his bedroom door, feeling like he wanted to do something to mark how much he appreciated this turn of events, "Do you want to go and see Dad's latest coffin? It came yesterday."  
  
Robin grinned, "Awesome."  
  
Vlad smiled indulgently and let Robin lead the way down to the crypt.

* * *

"Ugh," Robin grimaced, pulling apart the two halves of his sandwich. "Salad again. Mam's gone mad." Pressing the bread back together he leaned over to the edge of the table and dumped it in the bin, before turning back to him. "Chippy?"  
  
Vlad looked down at his own mouldy sandwiches and clipped the lid back on his sandwich box, nodding.  
  
By the time they got there Vlad was starving, Robin keeping up a running commentary on the particular merits of each chip shop in the area. They queued obediently, and Vlad was proud that he managed not to scowl too much at the sight of Price and his gang joining the end of it.  
  
Still they managed to get served and outside without Price saying a word to them, too busy chatting up some girls from the year below to spare the time.  
  
"My Mam must think I'm a rabbit or something," Robin complained around a mouthful of chips, "I'm going to waste away if she don't start giving me proper food."  
  
Vlad highly doubted that, but kept the observation to himself. "At least it's fresh rabbit food, I dunno where Renfield gets it from, but everything in the larder is disgusting." As he said it his hand caught against the side of the tray, smearing ketchup across it. He was instinctively licking it back off when he felt his skin prickle, as if someone were watching intently.  
  
He looked up to see Robin staring at him, eyes dark and unreadable. Vlad shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, the moment seeming oddly charged and intense, stretching on and on. And, then, it was being broken by a chip being pelted at the side of his head,  
  
"Knock it off, Count! Some of us are trying to keep our dinner down over 'ere!"  
  
"Yeah, shove off and get a room!" Davis added, preening when the girl next to him giggled.  
  
"Come on, Vlad," Robin said quietly, but Vlad was already speaking.  
  
"We're not doing anything!" he protested hotly.  
  
Price smirked, "You're breathing, aren't you?"  
  
He scowled, he hated that one when it came from Ingrid; it was no better coming from Price.  
  
"Look," Watson said, tone placating as if he were trying to highlight a perfectly rational point, "Nobody wants to see what you two benders get up to in your spare time."  
  
Vlad frowned in confusion, "Two what?"  
  
"Aw, come on, Count, you're supposed to be the expert," Price sniggered. "Benders, poofs, gayboys, queers. Freaks."  
  
Vlad felt suddenly ill, his mind stumbling over the list of words and making the connection in double quick time. He didn't have chance to think about anything else, to think about what he was going to do about the situation he'd put himself in, because Robin was shoving a tray of chips into his free hand and pushing towards Price as if the other boy wouldn't just pulverise him.  
  
"He's not a freak!"  
  
Price shook his head, "Yes, he is. He's perving all over you for a start; that's a dead giveaway."  
  
Without any further warning Robin lunged at Price, the two of them grappling in an attempt to get the other in a headlock. Somebody yelled 'Fight' and within seconds a crowd was forming. Shocked gaping gave way to action, and Vlad dropped their food in favour of trying to separate the two boys before Robin got seriously injured.  
  
Price flung a fist and hit him solidly in the jaw, pain flaring and radiating outwards. Robin started struggling, this time to get Price off him as Vlad clutched at his jaw, blinking away the instinctive tears in his eyes. Price shoved Robin, hard, so that he knocked into Vlad, almost causing him to lose his balance and send both of them sprawling to the floor. He steadied himself at the last moment, clinging to Robin with both hands, glad to see that Robin didn't seem to have been on the receiving end of Price's fist.  
  
In the time this had taken the crowd had grown still bigger, the presence of Tanybryn bottle green jumpers was enough to make Vlad clench his fingers harder into Robin's shoulders. He didn't want things to escalate.  
  
"You wanna pick on someone your own size, Price," Johnson called, pushing his way to the front of the crowd and giving Vlad a pointed look. Vlad was, on the one hand, relieved that the problem was with Price and not him. On the other, he wasn't that short.  
  
"Says who?" Price sneered back, temper raging and ready to lash out again. "You?"  
  
"That's right." They were going for it then, Price landing a punch to Johnson's gut before Johnson backed him up against the wall, one hand round his throat. Price kicked out at him and, in retaliation, Johnson delivered a fist to Price's face, Vlad wincing at the force. He clutched Robin tighter still, and spotting two uniformed PCSOs making their way across the courtyard, pulled him away to grab their schoolbags and go. The last thing either of them needed was another detention.

* * *

"Is your face alright?" Robin asked once they were a safe distance away, pausing to inspect it with careful fingers.  
  
Vlad felt awkward, Robin's fingers sliding along the length of his jawbone – especially in light of recent discoveries – and shrugged. "Yeah, it's okay." He looked up into Robin's familiar chestnut eyes, not sure if he was disappointed or relieved when it didn't result in the weird intensity of earlier, "What were you thinking though? He could have killed you!"  
  
"Well, that's charming!" Robin scowled, withdrawing his fingers abruptly. "I try and be a good friend, stand up for you, and what do I get!"  
  
"I am grateful," Vlad assured hurriedly, "But I have to tell you something - "  
  
"That you fancy me, I know," Robin nodded. Vlad gaped at him. Where had that come from? "It's alright. I mean, you can't help it, can you?"  
  
"Robin," Vlad started, panic rising.  
  
"Seriously," Robin's fingers were back on his jaw, prodding carefully at the sensitive skin, "It's alright. Don't worry about it." Vlad's protests died unspoken as Robin leaned in closer – and there was that weird tension – smiling crookedly. "Nobody's ever fancied me before, not properly."  
  
Vlad bit at his lip, knowing he needed to set the record straight, but unable to get his voice to co-operate. Robin's thumb stroked against his cheek and it made his skin tingle, a strange restlessness settling over him. He wanted Robin closer; his gaze fell to Robin's lips and he swallowed thickly.  
  
"I dunno if I can be that brave," Robin said, breath hot against his face, "just tell everyone like you did." Vlad squirmed; he hadn't been brave at all. Stupid, on the other hand… "I don't know if I am anyway," Robin went on, fingers moving, pushing into his hair softly, "It's like you said yesterday." Vlad looked back at him guilelessly, he couldn't think how his Dad's new casket was connected to this. Robin elaborated for him,  
  
"If you like something, then you like it." He shrugged nervously, eyes never leaving Vlad's face, "And that's all there is to it." Robin brought his other hand up to caress his other cheek, "I – I think I like you Vlad."  
  
Robin kissed him then, pressing their lips together softly. Vlad worried for a moment, afraid what people would think if they found out. Then realised with a start that, as far as everyone else was concerned, this was exactly what he wanted. Robin moved his lips against his own gently, Vlad's heart skipping a beat at the first slick swipe of tongue.  
  
He pulled away, expression anxious, although the fingers stayed anchored in his hair. Vlad did nothing but stare back for a long moment, thinking that, this time last week, he'd have been freaking out that he'd just kissed Robin, wanted to kiss Robin again. But maybe, he thought, remembering the way Robin had stood up for him, how he felt last week wasn't really important.  
  
Smiling he curled one hand around the back of Robin's neck, pressure light but insistent until Robin's lips were back on his, Robin wrapping one arm around his back to pull him closer, not caring that someone might come along at any moment and catch them.  
  
They could think what they liked. It was clear to him and, in the end, that was all that really mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


End file.
